


and other stories

by mozaikmage



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Books, First Meetings, Getting Together, M/M, gratuitous literary references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaikmage/pseuds/mozaikmage
Summary: It was a perfectly normal day at Nekoma Used Books when Sawamura Daichi, bookseller from Miyagi prefecture, walked in for the first time.





	and other stories

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic for Midnight to Morning Coffee: A Kurodai Domestic AU Zine! My first time writing a fic for a zine ever, which was super exciting. Thanks to Astrid for being such a good organizer, and Stacy for beta-ing!  
> I worked in a secondhand bookstore for most of my senior year of high school but this fic was the product of going to Boston for a weekend and visiting seven entire secondhand bookstores in the space of two days.  
> Oh also this is in the same universe as [ this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767805) but neither of the stories reference each other in any way that's just a fun bonus fact

“A good bookshop is a genteel black hole that knows how to read.” - Terry Pratchett

 

Nekoma Used Books was a bookstore in the broadest sense of the word. When Nekomata retired and Kuroo Tetsurou took over, he stocked the place with things relevant to his interests. Secondhand books were still the priority, but somehow the tiny space had filled up with a miscellany of...stuff. The left wall was lined with racks of vinyl records, old video games, CDs and DVDs. Reproductions of 20th century Japanese prints papered the walls, artfully juxtaposed with posters of bands Kuroo liked. The glass display case at the register was full of vintage metal toys and tiny glass animals. The wall behind it had rows of old tin piggy banks and lunchboxes, “for the aesthetic,” Kuroo said. 

“You don’t have to keep the name, you know,” Kenma had told Kuroo, back when he’d first bought the store. “Seeing as you’ve turned this place into Kuroo’s Weird Nerd Shit Storage Center, might as well rename it to something that reflects that.”

“Kuroo’s Kuntzkammer is a bit of a mouthful,” Kuroo had said. Kenma gave him a blank look. “It’s German for ‘cabinet of curiosities.’”

“You’re such a nerd,” Kenma had sighed.

So, Nekoma’s Used Books continued to exist in Shimokitazawa under the same name, catering mostly to quirky hipsters and adventurous tourists. It wasn’t a particularly unusual shop for the neighborhood, and it did modestly well. Turned enough of a profit for Kuroo to hire a few part-time employees besides Kenma.

It was a perfectly normal day at Nekoma when  _ he _ walked in for the first time. 

The bell on the door jangled. “Welcome,” Kuroo called out without looking up from his book at the register. “The bookcase against the back wall is rare and vintage books, so be careful with those if you’re handling them.”

The customer cleared his throat and said, “Um, I’m a bookseller, based in Sendai, and I was wondering if you had any Meiji-era children’s books? Or Taishou. Um.”

Kuroo looked up. The customer was a big guy, not that tall, but broad in a way that made Kuroo wonder if he spent more time lifting boxes of books than selling them. He had a friendly face, and projected an aura of stability and normalcy that Kuroo did not ordinarily see inside his bookstore or, if he was being honest, his life.

“I’m Sawamura Daichi,” the customer finally said, bowing.

“Kuroo Tetsurou.” Kuroo grinned. “And I might be able to help you! I just got a box of Meiji elementary schoolbooks from Izu. Booksellers get a discount, by the way. Follow me.”

“So what do you need Meiji kids’ books for, Sawamura-san?” Kuroo asked him as they made their way to the back of the store.

“We want to do a special display for Children’s Day this year, looking at Japanese children’s literature through the years? We’re also doing a read-aloud event for local kids.” 

“Community outreach. Nice,” Kuroo said. Sawamura still seemed tense and nervous, but his shoulders relaxed a fraction at the praise.

Kuroo picked up the box from where it was lying on the floor, buried by a stack of ancient-looking  _ Kitaro _ tankobons.

“These what you’re looking for?” Kuroo nudged the box towards Sawamura with his foot.

Sawamura sat down on the floor and rifled through the box. “They’re in surprisingly good condition,” he said, carefully smoothing out a yellowed page. “How much for the box?”

“Ten thousand yen sound fair to you?” Kuroo had bought the books a few weeks earlier, from a museum on the Izu peninsula. They were definitely worth more than ten thousand, but if he was giving Sawamura more of a discount than usual, no one needed to know.

“Ten thousand? You’re lowballing me, Kuroo-san. I’ll give you fifteen.” Sawamura looked him directly in the eye, an honest, sure smile on his face. 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Far be it from me to stop you from paying me more money, I guess. Anything else you’re interested in today?” He smirked at Sawamura in an attempt to imply that he wasn’t just talking about books.

Sawamura took a step back and looked at the bookshelf more critically. “I’ll browse for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means, browse away!”

The doorbell rang again, and Kuroo drifted back to the register to greet the newcomer. But he kept watching Sawamura out of the corner of his eye.

“What do you think?” Kuroo asked Kenma under his breath. Kenma was hiding behind the counter playing on his phone, biding his time until Kuroo asked him to straighten up some area of the store.

“Sawamura-san seems nice,” Kenma said. “Make sure to tell him the phone number on our store business card and bookmark is your personal cell phone number.”

“Thank you, Kenma.”

Sawamura ended up staying for the better part of an hour, going through every shelf and gathering up a sizeable pile of books from all sections of the shop.

“How much was your bookseller discount again?” Sawamura asked sheepishly.

“Enough,” Kuroo assured him. “Kenma, please ring up Sawamura-san. What does your store specialize in?”

Sawamura shrugged. “Sheet music, textbooks, foreign language books. Also mysteries, because I like mysteries so I keep buying them.” He laughed a little bit. “Karasuno’s a family owned store, and I just took over from my uncle a few years ago. I’ve been trying to make it my own since then.”

“That’s the best part about having your own store, isn’t it?” Kuroo punched in the total and swiped Sawamura’s card. “What’re you doing here in Tokyo? Just buying books?”

“Pretty much. I’m only in town for the weekend.” Sawamura leaned across the counter, putting his shockingly tanned and defined forearms far too close to Kuroo’s for comfort. “Any places I should check out?”

“You’re in luck! The Central Library is having their bimonthly book sale on Sunday. I was planning on going too, maybe we’ll see each other there.” Kuroo was planning on sending Kenma in for him. But if Sawamura was going,  _ well. _

Kuroo pulled out the little tin box he kept business cards in and rummaged through it. “You could stop by Fukurodani in Jinbocho, they have a lot of kids’ books. Tell Bokuto I sent you.” He passed Sawamura the card.

“Thank you,” Sawamura said, bowing slightly. 

“We secondhand bookstore owners need to stick together, right? My number’s on the store business card, feel free to call me if you need  _ anything _ else.” 

“Maybe I will.”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself at all this time,” Kenma told Kuroo once the door had closed behind Sawamura.

Kuroo glared at Kenma. “You sound disappointed.”

 

Kuroo didn’t see Sawamura at the book sale on Sunday, but he did see Akaashi from Fukurodani.

“Your friend Sawamura-san stopped by yesterday,” Akaashi informed him. “Bokuto-san said to tell you ‘good taste.’”

“We’re hardly friends, we just met,” Kuroo protested. Akaashi just looked even less impressed than his usual expression.

As if summoned by the cosmos, Kuroo’s phone vibrated then.

 

_ Unknown: hey this is Sawamura Daichi, the bookstore guy _

_ Unknown: had to leave early because family emergency but _

_ Unknown: thanks for all your advice!  _

_ Unknown: your friend’s...loud but interesting _

_ Unknown: it was nice to meet you, Kuroo-san! _

 

Kuroo stared at the incoming messages, heart pounding. “Just Kuroo is fine,” he sent in response.

 

He didn’t really expect to see Sawamura again, after that. How often does a bookseller in Miyagi have business in Tokyo, anyway? 

Often enough, apparently. It was the weekend after Golden Week when the bell rang and a voice called out, “Kuroo?”

Kuroo was at that moment balancing on a rickety stepladder and alphabetizing English-language books on a high shelf in the corner. He craned his neck back, spotted Sawamura, and proceeded to fall off the stepladder in a truly embarrassing fashion.

“Are you okay?” Sawamura asked Kuroo, sprawled flat on the floorboards in a pile of books. “Can I help you with anything?”  
“Sorry, Sawamura,” Kuroo said, doing his best to sound haughty, “While I don’t doubt your organizational skills, I don’t think you’re tall enough to reach that shelf.”

Sawamura scowled. “You know, I  _ was _ going to help you up, but I guess you don’t need my help after all.”

“I’m very sorry. Please, Sawamura, save me from myself!” Kuroo cackled, and Sawamura finally softened, cracking a small grin.

“Fine.” 

Sawamura’s hand was softer than Kuroo expected, and just as strong as he looked. He let go too soon for Kuroo’s liking and started shelving books.

“So if you stock English books, can you read English?” Sawamura asked.

“Double-majored in Business and English in college, worked here part-time,” Kuroo explained, picking up the fallen books. “Then full-time. Then Nekomata retired and now...yeah.”

Sawamura nodded. “I was a Business major, but I taught myself to read in English because I wanted to read the  _ Sherlock Holmes _ stories in their original language. Can’t speak it to save my life, but I can read it fine.”

Kuroo froze and turned to stare at Sawamura, delighted. “That is the  _ cutest _ reason to learn a language I have ever heard.”

Sawamura flushed. “Shut up.”

Kuroo shoved a copy of  _ An Artist of the Floating World  _ into its space on the shelf. “Have you read this one?”

Sawamura looked over. “Hm. I’ve read  _ Never Let Me Go _ by Ishiguro, but not  _ Floating World _ . Is it good?”

“It’s interesting. Ishiguro’s idea of midcentury Japan is different from most contemporary Japanese writers. I enjoyed it. Anyway, how did your Children’s Day thing go?”  
The other man smiled. “It was great. I sold some of those books I got from here.”

“Awesome!” 

They chatted easily about books and music and the difficulties of managing a small business until the shelves were neatened.

“I feel like I should be paying you,” Kuroo said. “You did more in ten minutes than Kenma usually does in a day.”

Sawamura laughed and shook his head. “I’ll take a free book, if you’re offering.”

“Have you read  _ Grotesque _ by Kirino Natsuo?” Kuroo went to the Thrillers shelf. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Sawamura frowned. “I’ve heard of it, but never got around to reading it.”

“Great.” Kuroo plucked the book off the shelf and shoved it into Sawamura’s arms with a bow. “Please enjoy.”

Sawamura smiled at him. “I’m sure I will, since you have good taste.”

The shop suddenly seemed ten degrees hotter. Kuroo looked away.

Another customer came in then, and Kuroo was almost grateful for the distraction. Sawamura hung around for a while, gathering a sizable stack of purchases.

“Do you ever leave Tokyo?” Sawamura asked when Kuroo rang him up.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I take two weeks off every June to drive around Japan and look for interesting things to add to the shop catalog. Why?”

“You should stop by my place. I mean, Karasuno.” Sawamura pulled a business card out of his pockets and gave it to Kuroo with a slight bow. “It’s kind of a mess, but...it’s a good mess.”

“Well,” Kuroo said. “You’ve been here two whole times already, it’s only fair.”

He tried to help Sawamura take his purchases to his car, but Sawamura insisted he didn’t need any help, and looking at those arms, Kuroo couldn’t really argue.

Kuroo stared at the closed door and resisted the urge to sigh dreamily, because he was not a teenage girl.

The Nekoma Annual Book-Buying Roadtrip that year went up along the northeast coast of Japan, to Aomori and then back around to Tokyo through Niigata. They stopped in Sendai on the fourth day of the trip, which gave Kuroo four days to psych himself up about it.

“I’m not nervous,” Kuroo said for the third time in as many hours, as they drove from Nikko to Sendai. 

“Mm,” Kenma said, playing video games in the passenger seat. “Why are you freaking out so much?”

“I don’t know!” He hadn’t told Sawamura he was coming, choosing to surprise him. “What if he’s not working today. That would be so embarrassing.”

“Oh no, you’ll have to buy books from a stranger, how horrible for you,” Kenma said, deadpan. 

“Hey, I’m acquaintances with most of the booksellers we visited.” They pulled into the downtown area of Sendai and let the maps app lead them to Karasuno Books.

Karasuno Books was tucked into a side alley across the street from a Lawson’s. There was a tree on one side of the door and a vending machine on the other, and a rickety wheeled rack of 100-yen paperbacks for sale. The clear glass storefront revealed a shop full of books and a few customers, and a silver-haired guy at the register.

“Do you see him?” Kuroo whispered to Kenma, who shook his head. “Oh, well.”

“Welcome to Karasuno Books!” the guy at the counter chirped. “If there’s anything — wait, are you Kuroo?”

Kuroo froze. “What? I mean, yes? How do you know who I am?”

The other man beamed. “I’m Sugawara Koushi, Daichi’s best friend and manager of Karasuno Books! You can call me Suga. Daichi has told me a lot about you! He talks about your hair a lot.”

Kuroo briefly wondered if he had in fact ascended to another plane of existence while Sugawara was talking. “Does he now,” he said, trying his best to keep a straight face.

“Suga, shut up,” Sawamura called from the back of the store, startling a customer. “I’ll be right there.”

Kuroo grinned and leaned against the glass countertop, propping up his head in his hands. “So, what does Sawamura say about my hair?”

“Absolutely nothing interesting,” Sawamura hissed, vaulting over the counter with practiced ease. “Ignore Suga, he sucks.”

“Can I go back to the car now,” Kenma grumbled.

“Nope! Here’s the list.” Kuroo made a list of things to purchase at each stop on their tour. Kenma treated purchasing things from the list like a video game quest, so the process worked for them.

“Suga, go help Kozume-kun with his list,” Sawamura instructed, and then whispered something to Suga Kuroo couldn’t make out.

Suga whispered something back and left with a wink.

“So,” Kuroo said. “You like my hair?”

Sawamura blushed, looking off to the side. “I never said that.”

“DID TOO,” Suga yelled from the cookbook aisle. “AMONG OTHER THINGS.”

“SHUT UP.”

“Hey Sawamura,” Kuroo continued, smiling so wide his face was starting to hurt. “Did you know it’s my first time in Sendai? I don’t know where to go for dinner. Any recommendations?” He paused. “I mean, I’m asking you out to dinner. On a date. Please date me.”

Sawamura stared at him. “For some reason, I thought you’d be more smooth than that.”

“Kuro’s only smooth when he’s not trying to be,” Kenma informed them as he deposited a stack of books on the counter. “Don’t worry about me, I’m not gonna third-wheel you two.” Kuroo ruffled Kenma’s hair as he walked past.

“So? Yes?”

Sawamura laughed. “Yes, Kuroo, I’ll go out with you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://cubistemoji.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/mashazart/)  
> 


End file.
